


Call Me Baby

by ephemerality



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Angry Lydia, F/M, Romantic Jordan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:17:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3525476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemerality/pseuds/ephemerality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She turns around and leaves, and he follows her, like he always does, like he always will, and they leave in their wake a room full of gaping mouths, wide-eyed stares, and a laughing Derek.<br/>Or, Jordan and Lydia end up together and break the news to the pack. Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Me Baby

**Author's Note:**

> This went in a totally different direction and is so much longer than I meant for it to be. I might steal some lines from this to put in other stories, though.

He doesn’t know what to make of her.

Sometimes he thinks there might be something going on, because she’s looking at him in a way that he can’t quite interpret or explain, but he knows that look because he’s caught himself looking at her like that many times.

But sometimes, she’s so distant. When people are around, she’s so distant. Only when they’re alone does she open up to him.

And oh, does she open up to him.

Even after she leaves, he can still feel the way her hand fit perfectly into his, her lips on his skin. The way she touched his face, got up on her tiptoes and it’s been 24 hours yet he’s still not sure what possessed him to turn slightly and her lips met with the corner of his mouth and she froze and he froze and yet the room was so  warm , she drove the cold away and made him feel so  warm , he wanted to hold her for the rest of his life and he thought that if he could die right now in her arms then he would be satisfied.

She pulled her face away from his and he opened his eyes even though he doesn’t remember closing them. His hands had somehow made their way to her hips, and hers were on his face and to the outside world he supposes they looked like a couple and he wishes that’s what they were.

He wishes he knew  what they were.

She drops down from her toes, and he realizes how much shorter than him she is. She comes up to his chin, barely. Her eyes are so wide, such a bright shade of green, and he wishes not for the first time that he knew what she was thinking. His hand moves from her waist to her face and gently moves a lock of hair behind her ear. She is looking at him like he just pulled the moon from the sky and gave it to her as a birthday present. He would, if she asked. Hell, he’d probably do it whether she asked or not. She just had that effect on him.

He wants to move closer, try for a real kiss this time, but he doesn’t dare move. He won’t spook her. She has to decide, she has to be ready.

And she wasn’t.

Slowly, she lowered her hand down from his face and brings it to her lips, and  god , he wants to kiss her again but he can’t take that risk. If he scares her, it he hurts her, he’ll never forgive himself.

She drops her other hand. She backs away, and he lets her. He knows his emotions are dancing across his face, his eyes are saying, “Don’t go, I think I love you,” but his lips don’t move.

“Jordan,” she starts. She stops. She takes a breath. “Deputy Parrish--”

“Lydia.” He doesn’t know what possessed him to open his mouth, but now he can’t shut up. “Don’t. Don’t say anything. I won’t push you, either way, this is something you have to decide. But before you brush me off and put up those walls again, think about it.”

She starts to say something, but he cuts her off again. “Just think about it. Don’t give me an answer now, or when you feel like you have to. Give me an answer when you feel like you’ve made the right choice. Until then, don’t say anything.”

And she didn’t. She just turned and walked away.

24 hours later (not that he’s been counting, he just so happened to notice), she still hasn’t answered. She hasn’t been to school. He knows because Stiles called to ask if he’d seen her, and sounded surprised when he said no. 24 hours, 24 hours without her, a whole day without her. He doesn’t know if he can do this. What’s he gonna do if she says no? Will he resign himself to the ‘friends’ category, to soak up whatever attention she chooses to give him? She’s got him wrapped around her gorgeous little finger, and he couldn’t get free if he wanted to. And he doesn’t. He wants her to stay in his life, however long or short it may be. He starts to regret that he did anything at all, because having some of her is better than having none of her.

Someone rings the doorbell, and because he assumes it to be Scott with more paranormal problems, or Stiles asking about Lydia, or even the Sheriff, he gets out of bed, pulls on a shirt, and heads down the hall, barefoot in faded, ripped, old blue jeans to answer it.

He opens the door and stops. Stares at Lydia, standing there, soaking wet from the rain, in one of her tiny red dresses and flats, her hair hanging around her shoulders He doesn’t think she could surprise him anymore.

“Jordan,” she breathes, and then she steps forward and kisses him.

He has a vague memory of pulling her against him, uncaring of the rain, of her fingers running through his hair as she kicks the door closed. He stumbles back as she turns and shoves him against the wall. He gasps against her mouth. He’s never met this side of Lydia before, but he’d like to get to know her a little better.

Okay, a  lot better.

He’s perfectly content to stand there and let her have her way with him, but apparently all the blood hasn’t left his brain yet, because he pulls back. She either doesn’t notice the hint or doesn’t care, because she starts kissing a line down his jaw, and his brain short-circuits.

“Lydia,” he says, and his voice is hoarse. He clears his throat. “Lydia.”

“Stop talking,” she breathes against his skin, and he gasps. “Or, actually, you can keep talking. Your voice is so damn sexy.” She glances up at him through her lashes. “Honestly, all of you is damn sexy.”

She thinks he’s sexy? That has to be a first for him. Women think he’s handsome, cute, good-looking. But sexy? No one’s ever called him sexy before.

Then again, no one ever shoved him into a wall and kissed him like this either.

“Lydia, Lydia, stop.” He takes hold of her shoulders and pulls her away from him. “Lydia, we can’t do this.”

“Why not?” she demands. “I want it, and you want it to, I know you do, so  why the hell not ?”

He studies her more closely. When she’d first gotten here, he’d assumed the water on her face was rain, but now he’s not so sure. “Lydia, are you okay?”

Her face crumples then, and she bursts into tears. He pulls her into him, and she buries her head in his chest and just cries. He stands there and holds her, just holds her and whispers sweet nothings, until she runs out of tears and starts to pull back. They speak at the same time.

“Lydia--”   
“Jordan--”

They stop and laugh awkwardly. “You first,” he says.

She bites her lip. “I’m sorry. For jumping you like that, and then crying like a baby.” He starts to protest, but she goes on. “I was just so mad at Scott and I needed to...to see you. I really wanted to see you.”

He rubs her shoulders gently, touched by her words. “Why were you mad at Scott?”

She laughs bitterly. “I wanted to see Peter, and he told me no.”

Scott was right, he thinks. “Why do you want to see Peter?” he asks instead.

She shrugs. “To...yell at him, I guess. I’ve been so angry at him for so long, and after having to spend all that time with him, to  help him, and all those nightmares, I just wanted some closure, you know? To know why, out of all the girls in Beacon Hills, in the world, he chose me. He chose  my life to ruin, and I just wanted to know why.”

He nods. He can understand that. “Peter chose you,” he says quietly. “Because you are beautiful and intelligent and unbreakable and even a psychopath like Peter can see that from miles away.”

She blushes.

He rubs his thumbs along her collarbone. “I’m sorry.”

She looks surprised. “For what?”

“Because you were hurt, and although you healed, and became stronger for it, you never got the closure you needed.”

She scoffs. “That wasn’t even the worst part of the argument. I got mad and started yelling about how they never take me with them when they go places, and they never really need my help and I’m the one they can live without, that I’m helpless and useless and need to be protected, and Scott yelled that I was.”

He makes a mental note to punch Scott.

“And everyone else was there but no one said anything, and he was right, you know, I  am useless and helpless, and I need to be protected because I can’t protect myself.” She’s starting to cry again, so he pulls her closer. On a whim, he slides an arm under her knees and picks her up, bridal style. To his surprise, she doesn’t complain, just clings to him. And though he’s not used to this new Lydia, the vulnerable one who talks to him about her problems, who allows him to hold her, he thinks that he could stand to see more of her.

He reaches over and locks the front door, then carries her to the living room couch. He almost takes her to his bedroom, because he thinks it’ll be more comfortable, but he decides that he doesn’t want to put her in that situation just yet. Especially if she’s upset.

He sits down on the couch, pulling her into his lap. and holds her tight. He kisses the top of her head and strokes her hair and just holds her and she doesn’t try to move so he doesn’t stop.

Eventually she shifts, looks up at him. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“For what?” he whispers back. He has no idea why they’re whispering, but he has to admit, there’s a certain thrill to it. Like it’s their own little secret, just between the two of them.

“Being such a baby,” she sniffs. “I don’t know why I went all crazy like that.”

He brushes his thumb over her cheek without thinking about it, and is pleasantly surprised when she leans into his touch. “You weren’t being a baby, Lydia, you were being human.”

“Are you saying all humans are babies?” she asks with a tiny smile, and he laughs, ducking his head slightly. When he glances up at her, she’s staring at him, lips parted, and she touches his face and she says, “You’re so beautiful.”

He feels a blush spread across his cheeks. “That’s you, baby,” he says without thinking, then realizes what he said and feels his face heat up even more. He doesn’t know where the endearment came from, but it feels so natural.

“Did you just call me baby?” Her tone is incredulous. There is a smile on her face.

He doesn’t think he could get any more embarrassed than this. He feels like he could pass for a fire truck right about now. But she’s laughing, and he’d gladly impersonate a fire truck until the end of his days if she would just keep laughing like that, like all she really wanted was him.

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess I did.”

She smiles. “Do it again.”

“Do what again?” He knows what she wants, but he wants to hear her say it.

“Call me baby,” she breathes. “Again.”

“Whatever you say, baby.”

She smiles wider. “I like that. when you call me names.”

“Most people find it insulting.”   
She laughs again. “Well, I think it’s very…” She leans closer, presses her forehead to his. “Scintillating.”

He swallows hard. Her lips are close, so close. But he doesn’t dare more. She has to go first. He won’t push her.

“Kiss me,” she breathes.

That’s close enough in his book. He kisses her, and she hums appreciatively. Her hands run through his hair and she kisses him leisurely, like they have all the time in the world. And if he has his way, they do.

She pulls back, pulls down the zipper of her dress, pulls it up over her head and drops it on the floor. Her bra is pink, and lacy, and it’s so feminine, so not what he pictured, especially considering that it matches her underwear. She grabs the hem of his shirt and yanks it over his head, tosses it down by her dress. He stares at her. “Lydia, we can’t do this.”

“Why not?” She leans closer, so the tips of her hair touch his bare chest, and he shivers.

“Because,” he says, trying to convince himself as much as her. “You’re upset, and I won’t take advantage of you.”

“You’re not taking advantage of me. I’m practically  begging for it.” She lowers her voice seductively, and he thinks that he’s in so much trouble.

She kisses him again and this time, he doesn’t resist. He’s running out of logical reasons not to, and running out of discipline. He can’t say no to her, he’s never been able to say no to her. He pulls her closer and unhooks her bra, mentally patting himself on the back for being able to do that without fumbling. He turns, shifting so she’s lying on her back under him.

And then the phone rings.

She groans against his lips. “Don’t answer it.”

He pulls back. “But what if it’s the sheriff?”

“He can wait.”

He tries to say something else, but she arches her body into his and he gasps, his mind going blank. He captures her lips with his own, lacing his hand with hers and holding it above her head. Eventually the phone stops ringing. He revels in the silence, the way her gasps and moans echo through the room.

And then the phone rings again.

She makes a frustrated sound, like a growl, and he laughs. He sits up and reaches for the phone. It’s the sheriff. He sighs. “Hello?”

“Parrish! What the hell took you so long? Everything all right?” the sheriff demands.

Lydia sidles up behind him and artfully slingshots her bra across the room. It lands haphazardly on a lamp on the far side of the room, and hangs there by a strap. She tosses her hair and attacks his neck with her lips. He tries to move, but she wraps her arms around his torso, her bare chest meeting his back, and he shudders. He feels her smile against his skin and wonders if she’s leaving lipstick marks on his body, marking him as hers. For some reason, he likes that idea.

“There’s a case here, may or may not be supernatural. Scott says yes, I say no, we need a second opinion. Someone besides Stiles.” He hears a muffled “Hey!” in the background.

He wonders when he became their second opinion guy, and stifles a gasp as Lydia bites his shoulder gently. “I’m on my way.”

“Allright. Hey, have you seen Lydia?”

She nibbles on his earlobe, and he nearly drops the phone. “Lydia?” he squeaks, and he wants to smack himself because a toddler could tell that he’s lying. She laughs wickedly in his ear, and he knows she’s doing this on purpose. Pushing the limits, testing the waters to see how far she can go. “Yeah, she called me a while ago, she’s pretty upset, why?”

“She has your number?”

“Apparently everyone has my number.”

The sheriff seems to accept that. “Okay. Well, hurry up. We’re waiting for you. And bring Lydia, okay?”

“Okay.”

“She’s part of the pack, son. We want her help.”

Lydia stills at that, and he realizes she’s been listening. “Allright,” he says. “I’ll bring her with me.”

The sheriff hangs up, and Jordan drops the phone on the couch. He turns to face her. “You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well, or something.”

She shakes her head. “That’ll just make things worse. I’ll come.”

He pulls her into his arms. “Whatever happens, you’ve always got me. You know that, don’t you?”

She nods against his chest. He moves to his the top of her head, but she glances up and he meets her lips instead. She pushes him slightly, so he’s on his back on the couch and she lays on top of him. He traces her cheekbone with his fingertips. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers. She blushes and kisses him again. He wants her to always kiss him like this, like she wants him, like she needs him, only him.

And then he remembers the sheriff.

“Lydia,” he mumbles. “Lydia, we gotta go, baby. The sheriff’s waiting for us.”

She groans in frustration. “You’re so  good . Haven’t you ever thought about standing them up?”

“No.”

“Of course you haven’t.” She sighs and moves her lips to his ear. “The second we’re done with that thing for the sheriff, we’re coming back here, and I am going to fuck you like you have never been fucked before. Over. And over. And over.”

He gulps. “I think I’ll take you up on that, baby.”

She laughs deep in her throat. “Call me that again and you won’t be leaving here for a long, long time,  baby .”

She stands and goes to get her bra before he can say anything else. He finds his shirt and shoes and gets her one of his shirts to wear, and a jacket too, since her dress is soaked. She steals one of his belts too, and cinches it around her waist, making it look like a dress. She tries to pull her hair back so no one can tell how messed up it is, muttering under her breath. He steps up behind her. “Here, let me, sweetheart.”

She lets go of her hair and he sweeps it back gently into a ponytail. “You’re full of these little nicknames, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

She rolls her eyes as she turns to face him. “Of all the guys in the world, I had to fall for the hopeless romantic.”

But she’s smiling as she leans up to kiss him gently. And then she grabs his hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

She holds his hand all the way out the door. The whole drive to the station she holds his hand. When he parks, he asks, “What are we?”

“What do you want us to be? Friends?” There is something, some expression on her face that he recognizes as fear, but he can’t reconcile the fact that it’s on her face. She’s not afraid of anything. She shouldn’t have to be.

“More,” he says truthfully, and he knows he’s said the right thing when a huge smile breaks across her face.

“Then more we shall be.” She leans forward and kiss him. “Come on, boyfriend.”

He can feel the stares when they walk into the station. He’s not in uniform, so that’s part of it, but the rest is because he’s holding the hand of Lydia Martin, and he’s sure some of her lipstick has rubbed off on him. He counts his lucky stars that she turned 18 two weeks ago, or he’d be in a cell right now.

He opens the door to the sheriff’s office and closes it behind them. Derek is there, regarding them with a knowing look. Scott it studying them quietly. Stiles and the sheriff stare, first at him, then at Lydia, then at their joined hands and laced fingers, then at him again. Liam smirks. Braeden winks at Lydia.

“Well, it’s about time!” Malia exclaims, and Kira giggles.

“You wanted our opinion?” Lydia asks, staying close to him. He’s not surprised to note that her tone is neutral. He’s even more surprised that Scott and the others haven’t apologized yet. Maybe they’re waiting for later.

“Yeah.” The sheriff scratches the back of his head. “This girl, Tammy, was out running and was cut to pieces by what appears to be claws. This is a preliminary exam, but so far, it appears to be an animal attack, not a supernatural creature attack.”

Jordan glances at the pictures on the table. “What kind of animal, do you think?”

“Probably a bear of a lion.”

“Lions aren’t native to North America,” Lydia says. “And depending on the type of bear, they probably won’t be in California.”

“So you’re thinking it’s a supernatural creature attack?” asks the sheriff.

“It’s Beacon Hills,” Lydia retorts. “But you already knew that. So why don’t you tell us why you really called us down here. I’m guessing you want to either yell at me some more, or apologize, and you called Jordan because I wasn’t answering my phone, but also because you think he’s neutral, am I right?”

“He’s not neutral?” asks Stiles, surprised.

“I’m on Lydia’s side,” Jordan says quietly, and the subject is dropped.

Scott sighs. “Look, Lydia, I think we all overreacted, and we’re sorry. We really didn’t mean it.”

“Yes, you did,” she says. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have said it. And you were right.”

“Lydia,” Kira starts, but Lydia cuts her off.

“You had to say it,” she tells them, her fingers tightening around Jordan’s, and he squeezes her hand to let her know he’s still here. He feels her relax slightly. “You had to at some point. What you didn’t have to do was baby me every step of the way. You should have told me sooner. And I have a right to see Peter if I want to. I’m part of the pack, aren’t I?”

The sheriff’s eyes widen, as if he’s suddenly realizing something. “You heard that.”

“I did,” she says with a smile. “And even if I hadn’t, my boyfriend would’ve told me. Now, if there’s nothing else, we’ll be going now.”

She turns around and leaves, and he follows her, like he always does, like he always will, and they leave in their wake a room full of gaping mouths, wide-eyed stares, and a laughing Derek.

(He calls her baby when they get back to his apartment. She doesn’t let him leave for a week.)


End file.
